


Shake the Thought

by wirewrappedlily



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Q is not a shy and retiring flower, but mostly it's smut, someone blows up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do inter-office relationships bother you?" </p><p>"No." Q groans, and pulls him back in for another kiss, just because he has to. "Though Moneypenny will be unbearable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake the Thought

They're alone together, without the eyes of MI6 or anyone else, for that matter; far away from queen and country. James Bond is tugging him along the beach like an excited child, and it's all Q can do to resist the urge to turn James around and kiss him senseless with every step. He'd watched the man seduce a young movie star that their target kept almost as a pet, and then James Bond had declined to actually bed her. But his Quartermaster he has all his attention now. James had found this little alcove, cut off from the rest of the beach, and no one but him brave or stupid enough to go climbing the slippery, sharp rocks to get to it from the beach, or swim out far enough to get to it from the water. With the tide down, there was a way through. But no one else could know that. 

Q slips into the alcove before James does, pulling the older, broader body into his arms from there and letting himself fall back against the fine, soft sand, pulling James Bond down with him. James laughs against his throat, and turns his head to kiss Q as deeply and gently as anyone could. Q sighs and splays those damnably deadly hands over James's back, relaxing in a slow wave of lithe muscle that James, until the day before, hadn't ever thought would come on a body like Q's. Q had laughed when James had paused in surprise, because Q may not have been in the field until then, but he was still an operative of MI6. Q, it turned out, was neither shy nor coy when it came to his body: though he'd had to be careful for the last two days not to catch the sun. He didn't see a necessary reason to be shy about himself. He knew the difference between the double-o and the whip-thin computer hacker. He would never care. 

James curves a hand around Q's waist, and Q finally lets the one thing he's scared of come clean, "Not particularly fond of inter-office one-night-stands." He pants the admission, and James's blond head comes up from lavishing attention over his chest. 

"I've no intention of this being just one night." James replies simply, and leans up to kiss the man who broke into such a glorious smile that it makes James feel like someone who didn't have so much as a chance of disappointing the man. "Do inter-office relationships bother you?" 

"No." Q groans, and pulls him back in for another kiss, just because he has to. "Though Moneypenny will be unbearable." 

James laughs into his shoulder now, arms winding around his back and lifting them together. "I'm sure your minions will also have some threats to make on the matter." He sighs. 

"You can't always refuse to bed the girl." Q acknowledges, "But if they know what's good for them, they won't make a habit of protecting me." 

James groans, hiding his face into the curve of Q's neck, "I haven't wanted anyone but you since Skyfall." 

That means three years, uncountable conquests, and Q can't stop his brain from idly wondering what it feels like to sleep with someone when it's your duty to Queen and Country. "Now you have me, Bond; what do you intend to do with me?" 

James groans again, and kisses Q until he's dizzy with lack of oxygen and an acute state of arousal, "I intended on kissing you until the tide came in and back out again." 

"So chaste," Q wonders, then moans as James nibbles at the delicate, thin skin covering his collarbone. His hips cant, and he can't help but to give a short cry of pure want, "I'm not nearly that delicate. Or that teasing." 

James chuckles, "Oh, I know. I simply want to take my time with you, Q. What ever time I can steal, borrow, or beg." 

Q laughs, tipping his head back to give James's mouth full access to his throat. "Well," He lets out two short, loud whistles, two different notes, and there's an explosion up the beach, "then I'll have to steal time for us both." 

James wraps Q's body around his and stands, looking first up the beach to see the starlet screaming at the pink mist that was left of their mark. "You..." 

"There's no tech the bastard has, I simply requested this to test it out properly." Q tells him, kissing down his neck to his shoulder, "You were back-up in case it didn't work." 

"You do realize that 004 and 009 can't whistle?" 

"Yes. You'll all get a sound-maker with the correct frequency." Q replies, grinding himself against Bond's stomach. 

"How is it that people fear me, when you are so much more terrifying?" James wonders, then pulls Q into a kiss, slipping out of the alcove and walking up the beach and away from the fallout. 

"You were also my way in. I'm not the starlet's type, and nor is she mine." To make his point, Q's thighs tightened around James's hips. "You had to get us invited to the party. 

"You followed me into the party." James breathes, berating himself that he didn't know. 

"And slipped the host a small explosive, yes." Q replies, "I was your way out." 

James looks at him, and Q smiles. 

"I told the man at the door that my new husband had strayed into the arms of his boss's starlet. They're Italian, they like that kind of thing." 

"So if she comes knocking at our door..." 

"At this point, I intend on having you tied to the bed and being naked when she gets there. Originally, we could have disappeared back home trying to keep the marriage together." 

"I think I like your methods of relationship-building far better than any other I've ever heard of." James laughs. 

"Let's get to bed." Q whispers, using his grip around Bond's shoulders to lift himself out of James's grip around his legs, swinging them down as he pecked a kiss to James's nose. "Chase me." 

Q is surprisingly quick, even over the sand, and James laughs wildly as he takes off, following the vague shape of white back as Q disappears into the small gathering of trees, headed for the small cabana they'd rented out together, Q laughing breathlessly and a grin so wide that James thought his face may break if he were to smile just a little wider riding over the double-o's features. James nearly stumbles as the uneven ground turns into the worn-smooth wood that leads up to each cabana, set into a near-jungle that is more breathtaking than anywhere else James has ever been. James reaches forward and snags Q's wrist, tugging just enough to turn Q, his body and its momentum pressing the younger man into the door in the next moment, both of them wild-eyed and panting, grinning from ear to ear. James's hands run over pale skin, and Q's long, thin fingers go to rest against his jaw, his eyes flicking a glance down to James's lips. James knows the invitation it is, and he's more than happy to kiss Q silly, pressing his back against the door without any hurry to unlock it, just simply laying Q's mind to utter, short-circuited rest as he kisses and sucks at Q's mouth, biting gently at his lower lip and sucking on his tongue . James's hands squeeze at his hips, pulling Q into him and wrapping around him, the man's temperature too cold for the island heat that ceaselessly pounds around them. 

With Q's next breath, the heat and humidity just shatters, and James can feel the sky above them flay itself open, the rain hard and heavy as it torrents from the sky. James moans, his head tipping back in offering, thankful as the water beats down on every leaf, cascades over James's shoulders and makes black curls turn into a sodden, matted mess. Q has never seen or heard James this free; this at ease. He's the most beautiful thing Q's ever seen, and if it were up to Q, he'd never go near anything that would take him away from feeling this good. James looks down at him, still grinning, and blunt fingers tangle up in Q's hair, pushing it off his face and tipping his mouth up to be kissed. Q hums, and his arms wrap around James's shoulders, his body melting into James's warmth. James finally produces the key, and takes Q back off his feet as the door swings away from his back. The half-light of the stormy jungle that so gorgeously made them feel cut off from the world is muted to nonexistent in the cabana, and as the darkness overtakes them, Q begins to gasp and pant, his teeth worrying at James's lower lip and his fingers pulling at him. 

They make it to the table in the breakfast nook, and James lets himself be grateful, for just a moment, that Q hid his equipment before going out that morning. They drip water over the table and send it splashing over the floor, and when Q strips off the mostly-undone shirt James is wearing, flinging it towards the door, it splats against the wood floor. James pulls off of Q's lips for a moment, and looks down at the sight laying under him like some kind of dark angel. "What do you want, Quartermaster?" 

Q swallows, his fingers curling against James's chest with his legs still tightly locked around his hips, and he casts his eyes over James's body as he licks his lips, "Fuck me." 

James groans, his hand groping mercilessly at the ass of the swim trunks Q had taken to wearing. Q rides up on his chest, legs locked around his hips as he lets out a short yelp and tries to do _something_ to get friction where he's beginning to rather urgently need it.

James isn't reckless, but it's entirely unceremonious when Q's deposited on the bed, the younger man bouncing with impact and smirking from under dark lashes. Without his glasses, Q looks almost more world-weary, a slight squint at the corners of his eyes, even with the contacts firmly in place, and James wants to simply lavish him in attention until every ounce of whatever could darken his thoughts is gone. It's a quelling thought, for just a split second, to wonder how many people have ever properly _lavished_ Q. If he's ever been shown, in exact detail, every last part of what he can do to a person. For the barest of moments, James dithers on where to start, and Q reaches for him. Q's long, perfect hands reach for him, and he knows _exactly_ where to start. 

Taking the man's wrist, James presses small kisses to his fingertips, running his thumb over the palm of Q's hand and moving his own hand around to massage at the delicate bones that make up the weapons of mass destruction James can't help but adore. Q hums as James manipulates his hand in slow, strong strokes; running down his forearm before catching up his hand again and kissing the back, laying it over his thin waist to bring the other hand up for much the same treatment. Q sighs happily as James works at a muscle he knows Q has trouble with from time to time, kissing over every part of his arms, over his shoulder to his chest. 

Q's hands aren't idle as James kisses along the pale, gasping chest. James shivers as Q touches each of his scars, fingers nimble over raised skin and so gentle that James almost doesn't know what to do under the kind of care Q is taking--but Q's breath catches, his body arching up just a little as James covers a nipple with his mouth and sucks, the reaction urging his calloused thumb to trace over the other nipple, pebbling the pink flesh until Q nearly whined at the stimulation. James kisses down the shadow of muscles lining his stomach, his hands busy with Q's trunks, sliding his fingers under them and easing them down his hips--unable to resist curling his hand around the long, thin cock that springs free, Q's moan a desperate yell to the ceiling and the storm beyond as James strokes his thumb over the crown, then torturously slowly gives a pump of his fist, running a thumbnail under the head on the upstroke. "Ah! Please fuck me, James, just--" 

James raises his head from licking and nipping at the blade of one of Q's hipbones, pulling himself upwards slightly to kiss him quiet, laying over him like a shelter. "Tell me your name?" He asks, kissing down his jaw and throat. Q's hands flail slightly, a fist colliding with James's arm, and when he catches the curve of James's bicep, he clings with desperate-tight fingers. "I want to know," James whispers, kissing his cheek so sweetly that Q can only whimper for more, "tell me what name I've been moaning for the last three years." 

Q's fingers run up over his back and drag him down for a kiss just as savage as any James has had. But James can feel the need trembling under the surface; and he has no intention of torturing Q for his name, no intention of doing anything but what Q wants and needs. He releases Q's cock, his hand reaching down to tease at his balls before slipping blunt fingers even further down, Q's hips bucking against his arm. 

"Grab the lube, darling." James orders softly, his mouth preoccupied with the taste of Q's skin. Q's lost the strange grace he had, nearly upending the table in his haste to snatch the lube from the bedside drawer. James kisses him when he finally snags it, taking it from his distracted grip and breathing him in as he presses kisses that are far too soft to Q's skin, headed downward once more. 

He kisses along the inside of Q's thigh and pops the lid of the lube as Q gasps desperately. He'll have time afterward, he muses, to finish taking Q apart, when the man isn't at the point of begging--something that James has to admit he kind of likes, but not his plan for this particular juncture. James breathes against Q's skin as he teases his finger at the pucker of muscle, his mouth moving slightly to nibble at the base of his throat as Q's hands clutch at James's shoulders. James presses loose kisses to the flush in Q's cheeks, taking the shudder of his body and breathing a soft sigh of a gentling noise. Q sucked in a breath and relaxed, his hands moving to curl around the back of James's neck, urging him into a proper kiss. James takes things as slowly as Q can take, working to not be cruel about how close James brings him before having to back away from the edge. Q takes a deep breath, seeming to sense that James feels he's ready, and James takes every sound he manages into his mouth, ravishing him in a kiss as he eases in. 

Q lets out a whine when James pauses to let him adjust, needing him to move until they're both falling headlong over the edge. 

James smiles softly, taking in the beauty in Q's demanding, impish features. He's not fully seated, and Q's gorgeous heat is bearing down on him beautifully. He rolls his hips slowly, pulling out only to push just a tiny bit further, until he's fully seated, and Q is arching up, his long arms grasping for James's shoulders, pulling him into a loose kiss. 

If Q expects James to lose control, he is entirely mistaken: James goes slowly--makes him sigh and eases the sounds from his mouth with a tenderness that no one would have accused the man of before now. It's a delicious unfolding; Q's body being pushed to a sensitivity that makes him want to thrash and whine and whimper. James sucks a mark into the curve where shoulder and neck meet, and Q shudders against him, his fingers pressing into scarred, tanned skin, his body rocking with Bond's. James wraps his arms around Q and lifts, and it's enough to make Q cry out for the pleasure in the shift; his hands scrabbling to fold around the back of James's neck, mashing their mouths together with no grace, and no hope of finesse. James doesn't move, sliding the kiss towards the mindbendingly slow and letting Q out only to pant and gasp into his skin. He stays pressed against Q's prostate for a long time, until Q's quivering body steadies just enough. When he starts to move, Q feels like he's fallen down a rabbit hole--like there's no way he'll survive this, let alone whatever relationship Bond is ready to give him. James tangles his blunt fingers in Q's wild mess of hair, pulling their foreheads together as he starts to move just a little faster, clinging on through the clench and strain of Q's muscles around his cock. Q is leaking between them, pressed between the flat plane of his stomach and the muscles of Bond's. James bites down on the urge to pull out and swallow Q to the root, wanting so much more to hear Q scream through his climax and end, boneless, in his arms. 

James's name spills from Q's mouth over and over, as if it's all Q can do to pray. He thrusts just a little harder into the bundle of nerves, and Q spasms around him, letting out a sound like a wild animal as orgasm tears through him with every thrust more. Q's short nails dig into the back of James's neck, and James lets himself go as Q drapes himself over James's shoulders and presses barely-coherent kisses to his skin. He comes groaning into Q's mouth, and Q shifts his hips into it, milking him until James can't take the squeeze anymore. 

Laying them down, James tangles Q's long limbs with his own, so close they could disappear into each other. Q's hand curls around the arm James throws over his chest, his eyes closing and his long lashes resting against his cheeks like a halo. James noses at him for a moment before a lazy smile spreads over Q's features. He turns his head and kisses James slowly, sighing softly. "When are we due back?" James asks, voice rougher than usual, even when he'd just been dragged to bed. 

"Three days more." Q replies simply, pulling himself into another kiss though his muscles feel like jelly. "Though I'm tempted to make this indefinite." 

James chuckles, "Now that would be a worthwhile vacation."


End file.
